


bleeding out his sin

by phantisma



Series: Abusive Steve [5]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Deathfic, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is starting to pull his life together when a phone call from Portland changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bleeding out his sin

He feels comfortable in his own skin for the first time in ages as he closes his eyes and sings into the microphone, cradling his still healing hand to him. It seems a little odd to not lay down his own guitar tracks, but he hasn’t quite gotten to the point where his hand is up to more than therapeutic playing to limber up his stiff fingers.

The song’s a little raw, but it suits his frame of mind and is as open and honest as he can be about the way he feels. The words roll out of him and when the song is done, he opens his eyes, looks to Darren for confirmation that this take was the keeper.

Darren is smiling and nodding and Steve lets himself relax just a little more. So far this is the third song they’ve completed since he’d gotten to Vegas. 

“Ready for a break?” Darren asks and Steve nods, sliding off the stool. He drains his bottle of water and slips out of the studio, headed outside for a smoke. He’s been in town a week, and it felt good, right.

The air outside is hot and dry and that too feels good. He tilts his face up into the sun with his eyes closed, soaking in the heat before he lights his cigarette. His pocket vibrates and he pulls the phone out, checking the caller id before answering. “Hey Jensen.”

“Hey, how’s Vegas?”

Steve grins and drops what’s left of his smoke to the concrete, stepping on it. “Hot, dry, good.”

“Good, getting some work done?”

“Yeah, some. You calling to check up on me?”

“Actually….no.” Jensen is quiet for a minute. “I’m…in Portland.”

Steve stiffens, suddenly hearing something in Jensen’s tone, something he didn’t like. “Chris?”

“It isn’t good.”

Steve swallows hard, his stomach twisting in fear. “What…what happened?”

“There was a car accident. He’s in surgery right now.” Jensen says something to someone else, his voice low. “He asked for you.”

“What?” Steve’s heart is thumping in his chest and he’s shaking his head. “No. No…he doesn’t want me there.”

“Don’t be an ass. I already booked you a flight. It leaves in about three hours.”

“But…Jen, I…”

“Just get on the plane. I’ll pick you up.”

Jensen is gone and Steve can only stare at the phone for a long minute. Three hours, then another couple on the plane…it was too much, too long. He can't breathe, can't think beyond the image in his head of Chris in some hospital because of him.

But this time it isn't him, but it doesn't seem to matter.

He forces himself back inside, his hands shaking, his face pale and somehow he manages to tell Rosalee about the phone call, somehow gets to her car and she's talking to him, he can hear her, but he can't make sense of the words.

There's a stop at his hotel room, clothes and his shaving kit and still he isn't sure exactly how he finds himself at the ticket counter, offering his ID and taking his boarding pass. 

It's the third bar he passes on his way to his gate that makes him stop. He stands in front of it for a long, long time before walking in and up to the bar.

"What can I get you?"

Steve looks up at the bartender and blinks. "Just….um…could I get some water?"

The man nods and turns away, but Steve doesn't wait for him, just leaves. He can't drink. If he tastes the first drop, he won't make his plane…and Chris is…bad. Jensen said it was bad.

He paces the area in front of his gate, sweating and shaking until they call for boarding. He's still jittery once he's on and sitting down, his knee bouncing as the plane fills up around him.

He tries to block everything out, but closing his eyes only makes him think of Chris, of the way he looked the last time he saw him in Portland, the bandages and bruises. It stands in his memory as contrast to the Chris that found him at Jensen's, the concern, the pleading to get his friend back.

The plane is too small and he wants to pace, move, anything other than sitting there. The man next to him orders Jack Daniels and the smell of it is eating at him. He wants to taste it, drown the crushing pain inside him with it.

He massages his bad hand, over the scar, up the fingers. It hurts enough to keep him grounded, to keep him focused…almost anyway.

He's never been so grateful for a plane to land, and he's up out of his seat as soon as he can, practically running off the plane, down the terminal. Jensen is nowhere to be seen when he emerges out of security and he comes to a halt, looking around him a little frantically.

"Steve!" He hears the voice and turns for it, finding Jensen just at the top of the escalator. He moves quickly and they turn for the down escalator without a word. They're in the car before Jensen says anything.

"Sorry, I was…they came out of surgery just before I left."

Steve waits for more, but Jensen's face is tight and he's not talking. "Well?"

Jensen clears his throat and reaches for his hand. "They're not sure."

Again he waits, looking down at their hands. "Not sure…of what?" Steve asks, not really wanting the answer. 

"His mom got here this morning." Jensen says instead. "She…" He shakes his head as they merge onto the freeway. "I was…supposed to do a cameo…got here two days ago. I should have been in the car with him…but I was talking to Danneel, told him I'd catch up."

They were quiet a long way, Steve's head playing out all the different things that could have killed Chris over the years…all the stupid stunts, the reckless behavior, the years with Steve. "Just tell me he's alive." Steve asks softly as they pull into the hospital.

Jensen lets go of his hand to put the car in park and doesn't respond for a minute. "He was when I left."

Steve gets out of the car, following numbly as Jensen leads him in a side exit and up to an elevator. They emerge to a quiet, sterile place that smells of antiseptic and fear. The waiting room is lined with familiar faces; Tim and Beth quietly talking in a corner, Aldis and Gina on the chairs with Eric standing nearby, but Steve can't look at them, not with Christian's mother emerging from the room down the hall and coming toward him.

Always stoic and strong, Mama Kane wiped at a tear before pulling Steve into a hug that seemed to go on for days. When she finally let go, she looked him in the eye, nodding to herself. "Good. Wasn't letting you in there if you weren't clean."

"I…I can't." Steve says, shaking his head.

"Nonsense. He's asked for you."

He feels like everyone is staring at him. He wipes at his forehead and exhales. Tim has moved closer, his face set and hard. Mama Kane holds up a hand. "Won't have you starting anything, Timothy. Steve is family. He deserves the right to say goodbye."

Tim doesn't take his eyes off of Steve. "Of course, Mrs. Kane. I'm just making sure he doesn't hurt Chris any more than he already has."

"Too late for that now." She pats his hand. "Go on, Son. He's…he wants you."

She moves away, but Tim doesn't, staring at Steve as if expecting him to pull out a bottle and start drinking. "I…I'm sorry." Steve says softly, daring a glance up. "I know….it isn't worth much, but I am."

Tim doesn't say another word, just turns to rejoin the others. Steve licks his lips and takes a hesitant step. Jensen is at his side instantly. "You want me to…"

Steve shakes his head. "I…" He doesn't know what to say though, so he shuffles down the hall to the door. It takes him a minute to push it open…and he almost can't walk through.

Chris seems so small there on the bed among all the machines and monitors. His eyes open, focusing slowly as Steve moves toward the bed. There's relief there in those eyes, tears in the corners as Steve's hand covers the bandages on Chris' hand. Steve swallows around the anguish at seeing him like this, tries to find words.

"You came." Chris gasps out before Steve can find them and he nods.

"Of course." They both know he probably wouldn't have if Jensen hadn't insisted, but it's a comfortable lie.

"I'm glad."

Steve can see one eye isn't exactly focused, the pupil blown and the skin around it all mottled and bruised. "I…I was in Vegas." Steve offers, sniffling now. He doesn't know the extent of the damage, but he can tell it's bad. Worse than bad.

He curls his fingers around Chris' hand, keeps his eyes there. Bandaged fingers are familiar enough, safe. Except for how they were usually bandaged because of something he'd done. 

"I'm sorry." Chris says, his voice cracking.

"You?" Steve shakes his head, tears spilling onto his cheeks. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Chris. I…should be apologizing. Hell, I should be the one…" He trails off, realizing that Chris' eyes have closed. He holds his breath, looking to the monitors and back, his hand closing around Christian's hand. "Chris?"

He wants to beg him not to leave him, not now…not when he's finally getting something of his life back…wants to plead for forgiveness, for Chris to take him back…but as Chris opens one eye again, the words are gone.

Steve leans in, brushing his lips over Christian's chapped lips. "I love you." Steve whispers. "I love you so fucking much."

"Love…" His voice trails away and his head sort of falls to the side as machines start making noises and suddenly the room is full of people and Steve's being shoved back into the wall and he's shaking as they work on Chris…then Jensen is pulling him away and the others are crowding around and it's too much…accusations hang in the air, fill his head, even though none of them speak.

"Mrs. Kane?" A doctor is approaching and Christian's mother falls to her knees, Tim and Aldis moving to catch her. Jensen pulls Steve close, hot tears spilling into his shoulder.

Chris is dead. Chris is dead and Steve…it's his fault. He might as well have been driving the car. He hears it in Tim's voice in his head. Steve always managed to hurt Chris whenever he was in Portland…and this time, Chris is dead.

Jensen's hand squeezes the back of his head, pulling his attention. "Listen to me."

Steve blinks. "What?" he asks breathlessly.

"You're not making sense, Steve. This isn't your fault."

He hadn't realized he was talking out loud. "I can't…I can't be here."

"Yeah, run away. That's what you're good at." Tim says accusingly. Jensen moves between Tim and Steve.

"Now isn't the time." Jensen says, one hand still on Steve's arm.

"No?"

Steve pulls away from Jensen. "I'm…I'll be downstairs."

He stumbles away and down to the elevator, but the lobby is filled with Leverage people and outside is a bunch of press. He tries to turn away, but John sees him and suddenly he's in a press of people and he can't move away, words flying at him, questions.

Steve shakes his head, holds his breath. There's too many of them and suddenly Dean is grabbing him, shaking him to make him focus. "Steve?"

"Chris…he…" Steve closes his eyes but he can't make himself say the word. He pulls away and shoves through the crowd, past the cameras and out into the parking lot. 

His fault. 

Chris is dead.

The tears burn down his face and he keeps walking, past Jensen's car, past the hospital, until he's just walking and he's not even sure where. He can smell the waterfront and he keeps moving, away…anything to get away.

Chris is dead.

His fault.

Steve should have been with him. Should have never left him.

Not that he'd had a choice.

He was weak and worthless. Couldn't even take care of himself, much less look after Chris.

He walks until he isn't walking anymore, looks up to find himself in a half familiar bar, a shot in front of him.

Chris is dead.

The pain burns inside of him, a fire alive in his gut that he can not quench with tears. He lifts the shot glass in a shaking hand and after only the slightest hesitation, he throws it back, swallowing the comforting, familiar burn.

He drops whatever money is in his wallet onto the bar and nods for another. The second tastes better than the first, even if his stomach is clenching around the alcohol. He's downing what he thinks is his fourth when he hears Jensen's familiar voice.

"Fuck, Steve."

He raises a tear-streaked face and shakes his head. "Fuck." The room spins and he misses the bar with the glass, shattering it against the edge.

"Shit." Jensen jumps back away from the mess, stepping around the glass to take Steve's arm, holding it up and pulling the bottom of the glass out of his hand, putting it on the bar. "Lets get you cleaned up."

Steve realizes then that he's bleeding, a lot. Red smears his hand, runs down his arm. "No." He pulls away, stumbling back. 

"I can't do this today, Steve." Jensen says, his voice pitched higher than usual. "I lost one friend today. Don't…just come back to my hotel with me."

"Just leave me." Steve says, reaching for the napkins the bar tender is offering for his hand.

"No. I can't. You've worked too hard to throw it away."

"Throw what away?" Steve asks, swallowing a sob. "I have nothing left."

"You have people who love you." Jensen counters. "Me, Jared, Danneel…your parents."

"You think I don't know what you all think of me?" Steve asks. "I'm a mess. An alcoholic wreck. I can't hold it together without one of you babysitting me? Can't leave me alone? You think I don't know?"

He heads for the door, determined to find somewhere else to drown the pain, but Jensen follows, grabs his shoulder. "You selfish son of a bitch." Jensen yells, shoving him into a wall. "It isn't fucking about you."

"Then leave me the fuck alone." Steve yells back, pushing past Jensen. He stalks toward the street, looking both ways for another bar.

"Is that what you really want?" Jensen asks.

Steve hears the truck coming, turns to look at his friend. "I just want it to stop hurting, Jen." Steve says. He glances up to gauge the distance. "I'm sorry. Tell…them that? I just…I can't anymore."

Jensen figures it out just enough too late to stop him. There's a horn and screeching tires…then the pavement and heat of blood on skin…followed by cold and distant voices…gentle hands…

Jensen's face came into view…then dark…


End file.
